


Frozen Fracture

by UisceOneLove



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: All the Maximoff love, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, And Bucky will always love him, Because I can?, Brainwashing, Bucky Barnes & Clint Barton Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Tony Stark Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky will never give up on Steve, Captain Hydra, Daddy Kink, Dark!Steve, F/M, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, I'm Sorry, I'm horrible, Implied/Referenced Attempted Suicide, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, My own mix of Iron Man 3 and Winter Soldier I guess?, No Winter Soldier, Protective Steve, Protective Wanda, Steve acts like a papa bear even when brainwashed, The Maxmoffs totally see Steve as a guardian, Things will be happy eventually, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, bucky is an avenger, clint's a good bro, memory manipulation, protective pietro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7075120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UisceOneLove/pseuds/UisceOneLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve saved Bucky on the train, only to leave him on his own when he plunges the Valkyrie into the icy waters.</p><p>Bucky's an Avenger, lives with Clint, is Tony's favorite uncle, and about to get a hard slap to the face when his best friend turns out to be alive. Too bad it doesn't start out as a happy reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bittersweet Future

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this is gonna be painful for me to write. And this is a Stucky end game fic, but I love Stony as well so I thought I would take advantage of this idea.
> 
> Tags will be updated as I go along obviously, possibly also get an upped rating if I see fit. I don't know how long this will be, nor how long it'll take me to complete, so I hope anyone reading will be willing to hold on for the ride.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, even if it means your heart hurts like mine.

_They were all waiting, the control room suffocating with tense anticipation. Peggy and Colonel Phillips standing mere feet away from Morita who was hunched over the radio. Bucky couldn’t keep still; his feet led him back and forth as he paced._

_Finally the radio came to life._

_“Come in, this is Captain Rogers! Do you read me?”_

_“Bout fuckin’ time.” Bucky breathed. They all crowded around Morita and the radio as the Commando returned the connection._

_“Captain Rogers,” Morita started, “what is your—“_

_Bucky pushed his friend from the seat to take his place, too impatient to let anyone else talk. Relief was bubbling in his chest. “Steve, you punk, are you all right?”_

_“Buck!” The signal crackled but the brunet could praise how clear Steve’s voice was. “Schmidt ‘s dead.”_

_Everyone else seemed to relax now that the other heavy weight was lifted. Schmidt dead. That meant all this was over. All the fighting against HYDRA paid off. Not that Bucky ever doubted Steve could do it. They’ve been friends too long for that to happen._

_“That’s great.” Bucky replied. “What about the plane?”_

_There was a silence that answered the question. Something started to coil in Bucky’s stomach that weighted it down. It was almost too easy to picture those earnest blue eyes and the way Steve’s mouth would twist with the measure of what would come next. It was never something good._

_“That’s a little bit tougher to explain.”_

_“Tougher to—“ he sputtered before he clenched his jaw. “Steve just give me the coordinates so we can find you a safe landing sight.”_

_Another pause. The weight got heavier. This is ridiculous, he’s not—_

_“There’s not gonna be a safe landing.” Steve’s words set the final weight and left Bucky’s stomach ready to sink. “But I can try to force it down.”_

_Bucky could hear the retreat of footsteps behind him as the room cleared out, except that wasn’t what he cared about so it meant fuck all at the moment. There wasn’t any confusion in Steve’s words but a confusion and panic in Bucky’s mind. This wasn’t right. This whole situation was wrong, because this is **Steve Rogers** , Captain **fucking** America, and there was no way that this was how things ended. They’re supposed to get back to Brooklyn to their too small shitbox of an apartment that felt like a fucking oven in the summer so that always left them drenched in sweat and stripped down to nothing but their skivvies trying to cool down. They’re supposed to celebrate winning the war with a Dodgers game and all the drinks they can get their hands on. _

_If either of them were going to die then it was supposed to be Bucky. He was the one who’d played lab rat for Zola and then got to lose a goddamn arm when the rocky mountainside ran into him while Steve had pulled him back into the train._

_Steve Rogers will **not** die, not here, not now!_

_“Steve wait a minute, okay? I’ll get Stark on the line, the guy’s gotta know what to do, okay?”_

_“There’s not enough time.” No no, there had to be plenty! “This thing’s movin’ too fast and it’s heading for New York.”_

_Don’t say it, Steve. **Don’t fucking say it, don’t** —_

_“I gotta put her in the water.”_

_Everything started to cave in on Bucky. It couldn’t be too late. Steve was just being his stubborn self as usual. There had to be another way._

_“ **Don’t**.” Bucky pleaded. His voice was already gruff and thick, his line of sight on the verge of becoming blurred. “Rogers, there’s still time. You hear me? We can work this out.”_

_“Buck, right now I’m in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are going to die.”_

_But **you** will die if you do this!_

_“Dammit, Steve—“_

_“Bucky.” Steve cut in softly. He wasn’t fooled for a second though; he could hear that thin Rogers Certified finality underneath it. “This is my choice.”_

_Wasn’t all of this Steve’s choice? Taking the stupid serum, acting like some fucking movie hero charging into the HYDRA compound to free them, starting the Howling Commandoes, getting on the Valkyrie before Bucky could go after him?_

_Every time, every fight. Why couldn’t Steve pick the choice that brings him back to Bucky safe and breathing and without any bruises?_

_“Hey Buck?”_

_“Yeah Steve?”_

_“You gonna miss my pretty mug?”_

_“Of course I’m gonna miss it, you fuckin’ bastard.” Bucky snapped as his chest started to heave with his fear. The inevitable that he’d thought got thrown out of the window when Steve showed up no longer scrawny and sick. He knew he’d be lost without Steve then. The truth was still the same now. “Whose six am I supposed to watch now, huh?”_

_There was a short laugh on the other end of the transmission. “I think Dum Dum wouldn’t mind you watchin.”_

_“Fuck you, Steve.” Bucky swallowed thickly. “I was supposed to be there with you.”_

_“I know, jerk.” Steve replied, and at least he had the god damn decency to sound sad about it. “I guess this is the end of the line, Buck.”_

_Static. Nothing but static and the feeling of his heart shattering._

_“Steve?” The responding static played loud in his ears. “Stevie? Stevie, please.”_

_Bucky was left with nothing. All alone and the voice of his best pal forever gone. He’d thought wrong; Steve hadn’t gone on that plan alone. Bucky’s heart had gone with him, and now it was going to have a permanent resting place in the ice with the love of his life._

* * *

For the last seventy years, Bucky Barnes’ day started the same. Re-living the death of your best friend doesn’t bode for a good day, usually. The dream always came first. When he could sleep, that is.

And when it did, Bucky would spend the next hour standing under the hot spray of the shower doing nothing but stare at the beads of water as they ran along the glinting metal of his left arm. Clint always complains about it. Says he wastes all the hot water. It was hard to tell, the dream left him feeling nothing but numb.

“C’mon, man!” Clint whined from the other side of the door. “I’m not taking a damn cold shower when I don’t need one!”

Bucky’s forehead thunked against the wall as he deflated. He turned the water off and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist before he yanked open the door.

“Dude, I appreciate the show, you’re generous, but I’m spoken for.” Clint wiggled his brows. The blond met with a mess of pink hair, and any other time Bucky might find it for the hilarity it looked. Ever since Tony botched a prank by filling Clint’s shampoo with an experimental liquid instead of shaving cream the result has been never ending changes in hair color.

One would think that it’d require some serious recovery time after being Pinocchio’d by Loki and his scepter. Then again, Clint never did like being told to ‘sit and stay’.

“Sorry, Katniss, but some of us had to spend their twenties shaking under ice water.” Bucky replied with his most charming smirk.

Clint gaped before gesturing his arms wildly and pointing while a streak of white flashed through the middle of his hair. “No. No, you can’t do that! You’re an old man; you’ve had a lotta time to fix that! You can’t just pull that card!”

“Just did.” Bucky said cheerily before shutting the door in the archer’s face. The cheer immediately fizzled as he made his way over to the mirror.

Wiping the steam away left a clear view of his reflection. Bucky tended to hate his reflection now. A face still young and smooth, not a touch of grey hair, and free of any signs that he’s been nearing one hundred years old. Howard had been the one to figure it out in the 70s when Bucky looked nothing close to being fifty.

Another reason for him to despise Arnim Zola and the very existence HYDRA had once been.

Bucky made quick work at shaving (hair seemed to at least still grow; he never stopped getting rid of it) and moved on down the short hallway to his bedroom. Clint rushed by him into the bathroom with a huff. The brunet dug out a blue Henley from his dresser and a pair of dark jeans, shoved on some boots when he was finished getting dressed.

By the time Clint was showered and dressed in his Hawkeye attire, Bucky was sitting on the couch with a half-finished bowl of Lucky Charms.

“Still on for drinks at Woodwork?” he asked the brunet.

“If you don’t get your ass shot.” Bucky answered.

Clint scoffed. “The last shot my ass got was by my doctor during a check up.”

“Did they bend you over and tell you to cough, too?” Bucky asked innocently.

“Why, you jealous it wasn’t you?”

If Clint’s hair was a golden yellow and had the body of a Greek god, maybe. Or maybe if he was small enough to curl himself around completely to keep warm. “Only in your dreams, Clint.”

“Sorry to disappoint, Buck-O, but the only one in my dreams is a feisty red head who has a tendency to get her legs over my shoulders.”

“What would Natasha say to something like that?” Bucky arched a brow, a bemused smile on his lips even though he was trying not to be too shaken by the visuals.

“Don’t know, and never plan to.” Clint winked. “Woodwork. You’re buying the first round, Sarge.” He gave a mock salute and took off, leaving Bucky to his own thoughts as he downed the rest of his breakfast.

Call it a form of masochism, but Bucky’s vehicle of choice was a Harley. There were dozens of memories in his head of watching Steve on his motorcycle on their many missions. He knew that if Steve were here that this would be the very thing he’d be using.

 -o-

Also, in his opinion, a motorcycle was easier to maneuver with in the busy streets of the city. 

After his slow go of a morning, Bucky took his bike and drove to Stark Tower. Excuse him, the _Avengers_ Tower, as Tony had announced to their group during their schwarma outing.

There was a parking spot reserved for each member of the team in the underground lot Tony made, among several for the cars from the Stark collection. Bucky parked his motorcycle in the correlating spot, and then gave Happy a wave as he passed the limo on his way to the elevator.

“Good morning, Mister Barnes.” JARVIS greeted him as soon as the doors slid closed. The elevator moved on its own when JARVIS selected the floor automatically.

Bucky smiled, his eyes flickering up towards the ceiling even though he knew it wouldn’t make the AI appear. He remembered being around when Tony first started making him. “JARVIS.” He greeted in return.

“Master Stark is in his workshop awaiting your arrival.” The voice informed him.

“Has he left it at all since the invasion?” he asked with a risen brow, already expecting the answer.

“Sir has remained focused on new technological developments.” JARVIS answered, a hint of disapproval in his voice. Bucky was glad even an AI could get exasperated by Tony’s lack of self-care.

“Has he at least remembered to shower this time? To eat? Sleep? Function like a human being?” Bucky pressed. He crossed his arms and his foot started to tap. When Pepper was still around as Tony’s PA he could count on her to help ensure Tony never worked himself completely to death. Now it seemed to be his job solo again. Unless Rhodey could start making more visits. 

“Sir has requested to remind you he can take care of—pardon the wording—‘my own genius ass without Uncle Icicle babying me’.” JARVIS answered. “But since he did not prohibit me from making my own observations, Mister Barnes, Sir has only gotten a total of ten hours of sleep out of the last two weeks. He has been living off a package of protein bars and hasn’t used the shower since last Wednesday.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Tony.” The brunet had to take a few breaths. This may not be some new habit of the billionaire but it still damn well pissed Bucky off. Tony’s not the first person he’s taken care of over the years but at least Steve actually kept a sense of hygiene and self-preservation.

God, what he’d give to just have to worry about a small Steve coughing up his lungs.

As soon as the elevator doors opened Bucky was greeted by the sight of smoke pluming out of the doors to Tony’s workshop.

“The fuck are you doing, Tony?” Bucky demanded. He heard the click of the fans as they turned on and vented the grey cloud out. When he could finally see, Tony Stark was standing in the center of the room with goggles, a Black Sabbath t-shirt, and his usual cocky smile. Oh, and a nice layer of soot.

“Uncle Buck, just in time!” he greeted. Next to him Dum-E shut off the blowtorch it was holding. Tony set down the goggles near what Bucky could only assume was some new armor before coming around to pull him into a—possibly—over-enthusiastic hug.

The proximity let the older brunet get a whiff of how putrid Tony smelt (seriously, the guy could be mistaken for a dumpster or decaying corpse) and had to promptly force himself into not gagging up his sugary breakfast. Bucky could also see all the oil stains and wrinkles that the inventor’s clothes were covered in, which seemed to match the dark circles underneath Tony’s eyes.

“Christ, Tony, what could you be doing in here to make you decide it was time to play Survivor Man?” Bucky asked. He clapped Tony on the back before he pulled out of the hug and then went over to the table to try for a closer look at whatever was surely a failed project.

“Just some new prototypes.” Tony waved off.

“Prototypes of what?”

“Just trying to add more power to the suit’s propulsion system. And maybe some EMP. You know, in case Skynet needs to be shut down.”

Bucky snorted and shook his head. “Maybe you should be working on a time machine to stop them from making those shitty sequels.”

“Only the ones in this last decade were bad.” Tony pointed out, but got a look that Bucky knew all too well never went in a good direction.

“Was still kidding, Tony.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “No one needs you in control of history.”

“What?” Tony protested innocently. _Innocent, yeah right_ , Bucky thinks. “Maybe I’d just like to give Turing a little pat on the back.”

“The last thing that man needed was you coming around, kid.” Bucky countered. “Get your ass over here so my arm can stop bugging out.”

Tony huffed and started to get closer only for Bucky to put up his flesh hand in a gesture to make him stop. “On second thought, get your ass in the shower. _Then_ you can get in my personal bubble.”

“What are you, my nanny?”

Bucky arched a brow. “Do I need to call Pepper?”

Tony’s jaw snapped shot, and Bucky could swear he’d never seen him move to the adjacent bathroom so fast. It might have been a low blow, but having someone who can terrify the man into compliance worked as a great trump card.

Bucky sighed and took a seat on the couch to wait “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Mister Barnes?”

“Any chance we could get some real food down here?”

“I can place an order for Sir’s favorite pizza.” JARVIS replied. “It can be here in fifteen minutes and sent down to you.”

“Thanks.” Bucky grunted as he sprawled along the cushions. The couch was leather that’d been worn in all the right ways and contorted around his body like it was giving him a hug. He slid off his jacket and bundled it underneath his head as a pillow. Closing his eyes wasn’t a hard next step.

“It’s my pleasure, Mister Barnes.”

With the lab now to himself with only the muted sounds of the shower running, Bucky found his way back to the idea of time travel. Being, for a lack of a better term, immortal for the last several decades left him copious amounts of time to consider the subject.

There were a handful of things that he’d go back to. Everyone had things they’d like to change if they could. The bleeding hearts always talked about killing Hitler to stop the Jewish genocide and World War Two (Bucky wouldn’t have minded the war not happening, obviously) or preventing the Titanic from barreling into a damn iceberg or preventing the Vietnam War or JFK getting shot, whatever. Just a bunch of people talking out of their asses about making the world a better place for humanity.

Fuck that. Fuck being a humanitarian or as altruistic as Captain America or whoever else. While Bucky could agree wholeheartedly about all that, his own intentions would be more than beyond selfish.

For starters, he would have been there to stop Howard and Maria from getting in that car accident. Tony and Howard’s relationship sure as hell wasn’t the best but he was still a good man and no one should have to live a life without a mother. Bucky was there to see how devastated Steve had been when Sarah Rogers died. Watching the same look on Tony’s face was like seeing to versions of the same scene juxtaposed on top of each other.

But more importantly, Bucky would have kept Steve from going into the ice. If he’d been faster, he could have gotten on the _Valkyrie_ too. Been there to problem solve or get Steve out of there before it crashed. Or Bucky could have prevented Steve from getting on the plane altogether and sacrificed himself. Anything to keep Steve breathing and living a happy life he deserved.

Time wasn’t kind to Bucky in those initial years when Steve was gone. Bucky’d turned the Howling Commandoes missions into suicide missions. He hadn’t cared if he died, it would have meant he didn’t get to see a world missing Steve Rogers.

Those hadn’t been the only dark spells he’d had. But those were the ones he still thought of first.

Bucky…he was better. As much as he could be.

How are you supposed to function in a world without your best friend, or the heart that he’d filled with the purest form of joy?

JARVIS worked like a guardian angel, breaking in when Bucky’s thoughts were on the verge of something darker. He got himself up from the couch to retrieve the pizza with an extra thank you to the system.

Tony came out fresh and squeaky clean not long after. And thankfully in clothes that didn’t need to be burned in a furnace.

And if Bucky saw Tony’s face light up at the sight of the pizza box, or heard his stomach let out a growl loud enough to be heard on the main floor, he didn’t say a word.

A single, large pizza was hardly enough to keep a super soldier’s appetite sated, but Bucky didn’t worry about it. The food was for Tony so he’d stuck to only a couple slices. And stealing some pieces of meat from other ones while the Stark complained.

Bucky had migrated to the lab table, sitting on it without a shirt and nibbling on the last of his slice. Tony had crust between his lips while he worked on Bucky’s metal arm. He could feel the tugs and manipulations as the man worked but luckily they’d turned off the nerve connectors. Pain wasn’t something either of them wanted to cause.

“How’s the bird watching?” Tony asked. “Has he fallen out of the nest yet?”

Bucky chuckled and shrugged his other shoulder. “He’s thrown himself right out of it determined to fly. I’ll find out tonight if he went splat.”

“Is Romanov waiting with a web to catch him?” Tony asked with a smirk.

“I think it’s more like Natasha is waiting to carry him back to the nest with an ‘I told you so’.” Bucky corrected with bemusement.

“I still demand pictures.” Tony declared. The man’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he gave something in the arm a tweak. Bucky didn’t try to fixate on it anymore, not since Tony placed an arc reactor into it during the last upgrade.

“You could always join us.” The Sergeant offered. “A couple beers and watching Clint turn into a drunken puddle is a great night.”

Tony made a sound in the back of his throat that Bucky had no clue what to name except for the idea that it was a way of expressing how much the Stark wanted to say yes.

“Pepper’s got me meeting a new investor for Stark Industries tonight.” Tony whined.

“A new investor? Don’t you get a bunch of those?” Bucky furrowed his brows. What’s so special about a new one?

“They’re some big wig in the Russian corporate world.” Tony grumbled. How can a grown man still pull off sounding so petulant? “And they made a big donation for tomorrow night, so Pepper insisted this would be a huge deal. A bunch of ass kissing.”

“I thought you liked a little ass kissing?” Bucky smirked in response. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity no matter how old he’s getting.

Tony huffed. “Not when it’s from people looking for an in on my celebrity.” He made some finishing touches and clicked the metal slates back into place, being sure to turn the nerve connections back on. “Good as new, Uncle Buck.”

Bucky nodded his thanks and pushed off the table. He tested the arm, feeling no resistance or clicks as plates glided smoothly under his control.

Tony stood by as Bucky pulled his shirt on and grabbed his jacket from its forgotten place on the couch.

“You gonna use Barton as your wingman tonight?”

“I don’t need a wingman, Tony.” Bucky sighed.

“From the lack in updates on your track record, I’d say you do.” Tony countered. “Can’t recall you ever being with any significant others growing up.”

“I haven’t been lookin for one.” Bucky stated with a warning in his tone. This wasn’t a subject he liked having to keep discussing. Nat liked to try and push him into dates constantly despite his solidarity in saying no. He got his frustrations and longing out every once in a while in clubs, finding someone with just the right look to pass as a certain blond and take them to the bathroom or a hotel. One night stands were all he was after. No commitments. No one could ever take the place he’d wished Steve could.

Being possibly one of the only people he does it for, Tony backed off with a shrug. “Fine fine, you old maid.”

Bucky suppressed an eye roll and made a beeline for the elevator. “See you tomorrow, Tony.”

“Yes sir, Uncle Icicle!” was the last thing Bucky heard as the doors slid shut.

Now he couldn’t stop his eyes from reaching for the ceiling.


	2. Can't Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sweaty Bucky, an old epiphany, and a drunken Clint Barton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say that this is the first time I've tried writing for the MCU. I love all these characters so I really hope I can do them justice. 
> 
> Thank you for everyone who's liked it so far and subscribed, and I promise Steve will show up in their present timeline in a few chapters.

Bucky didn’t leave the Tower right away. One of the better advantages to being an Avenger, and close family of Tony Stark, was having (mostly) unrestricted access to Stark property. It started with Howard when they’d come back home from the war and then naturally was continued by the latest CEO of Stark Industries. It was one of the few things that both Stark men agreed on.

So while Tony had his lab and the Tower’s construction was underway, Bucky had JARVIS take him down to the gym floor.

Whenever Clint’s around for a workout, it tends to turn into more of a competition with who has the better shot. An archer against a sniper. A great way to keep his eyes and mind sharp, really. Clint always had him beat with arrows. Not shocking, and Bucky gladly let him have that. He didn’t care for bows and arrows himself as a weapon. Guns had been his thing since joining the war. So then when the guns came out, Bucky proved every time why he’d been (and still was) considered the best sharpshooter.

_No one’s got eyes like yours, Buck,_ Steve used to tell him.

Bucky would still do anything to have him around again _just_ to hear that.

Now if it was _Natasha_ working out with him, on the other hand, the time flew by with her teaching him some of the moves engrained in her from the time she’d spent in the Red Room. Bucky never asked about the experience and she never told. That’s how they mutually kept it. She was a good friend to him and took great care of Clint. The least that Bucky could do was respect her and the befuddled, dark past she carried.

And then there were days like today Bucky was on his own. He would spend his solitary workouts by throwing some punches against one of many bags or just lift some weights.

While he’s not physically any older, he didn’t have the same slim figure from the 40s. There was more muscle that filled out his arm (and his metal arm had been updated to match with every growth in that muscle), his thighs were thicker and stronger. Let’s not forget that his stomach now had the definition of abs and a deeper V-shape that led down to his groin. Bucky’s only wish on the matter was for a certain blond to be around to appreciate it. Maybe he would have even liked the arm Howard made him back then, and the upgrades both father and son had kindly made to it over the years.

And just maybe Steve would be proud of him for sticking around to help Peggy and Howard. Or of the way he’s done everything he knew Steve would have done to keep them safe.

Maybe Steve would tell him it was okay he couldn’t stop the car accident that killed Howard and Maria, and that almost took Tony along with them.

And maybe Steve would have grinned and clapped Bucky’s shoulder for keeping an eye on that dirty bastard Obadiah Stane.

Steve had come to him in a dream. His best friend had held his face and whispered against his lips to not trust Stane, to protect Tony. It’d felt so real that when Bucky had woken up he’d sobbed into his pillow for hours. Bucky never broke his promises to Steve and he didn’t stop now or ignore this. Steve was hardly ever wrong about people when he was alive. Why would now be any different?

Bucky wrapped his hands before curling them into fists and aiming for the punching bag. JARVIS had the usual playlist going through the gym (a mix of the jazz classics and some R&B. Natasha and Clint liked to sneak in a couple of those ridiculous pop songs. Tony was all about that classic rock.) and Bucky didn’t take long to find his rhythm.

Joining the Avengers had been something Bucky did as a way of doing what Steve wasn’t there to do himself. Calling himself Captain America during missions brought a lot of strange feelings in his chest. But someone needed to remind this country—and the world—that there’s always been someone willing to get in the trenches and fight dirty. That’s not saying Steve would be happy about there being another fight.

Then again the damn punk never had the patience for bullies. Loki and the Chitauri definitely counted.

Bucky had barely even broken a sweat before his metal arm went through the bag. He blinked as sand drained out onto the floor. He removed his arm and checked for any grains that could have slipped into the cracks of the metal, then took down the destroyed bag to let JARVIS dispose of it.

He dragged out the next bag to hoist it up onto the hook. Bucky caught his reflection in the mirror wall and his eyes flitted down to the bicep of his metal arm. Human fingers brushed over the insignia he had Tony decal onto it back when Coulson and Fury brought them in for the Avengers; Steve’s shield. The real shield was gone, along with its owner and the _Valkyrie_ in a grave of ice. The insignia was Bucky’s personal dedication to the man who couldn’t be here in his place. 

* * *

 

_Bucky’s hand couldn’t stop shaking._

**_Fuck_ ** _, he’d almost—_

_If Steve hadn’t been able to pull (more like **throw** ) him back into the train last second, losing his left arm would be the least of his worries._

_God! How close he’d been to falling! It would have been the ultimate sacrifice to give for his best friend’s fight against HYDRA._

_But to not be able to see Steve’s bright blue eyes when he’s laughing at something stupid Bucky’s said or that hot blush he’d get whenever he’s mad or embarrassed? That would have been a tragedy._

_All the Commandoes celebrated his near-death experience and the successful capture of Arnim Zola with drinks. Dugan thought most things were occasion enough to drink. Bucky was never one to go against it._

_The bar they were in had been destroyed for the most part due to the recent bombings, but their group still found a table to pull up chairs and the booze they personally brought with them. The only one missing was Steve._

_All of them knew their Captain was still with Colonel Phillips and Miss Peggy Carter working on interrogating Zola. Bucky wanted to be far away from the scientist after everything they’ve…shared together. Bucky wasn’t planning on going near any doctors for a while no matter whom they worked for._

_There was also that recently discovered thing about Erskine’s serum preventing Steve from getting drunk. A drag in Bucky’s opinion, but he and the rest of the Howling Commandoes always did enough drinking for him._

_“To Sarge!” Dum Dum toasted cheerfully, bringing Bucky back to focus. They all raised their glasses and downed the amber liquid._

_There was the expected burn that flared through Bucky’s throat, but his stomach welcomed it with the feeling of lead being added to it._

_“You were an idiot picking up Cap’s shield, but you survived with style.”_

_“Thanks, Dum Dum.” Bucky rolled his eyes. Yeah, a bandaged stump that was what remained of his left shoulder was the epitome of surviving in style._

_“All the dames’ll be after you now.” Morita smirked. “They love themselves an amputee.”_

_Bucky couldn’t care less about the dames. How was he supposed to protect Steve now? You can’t exactly work a rifle with just one hand._

_“Well it’ll still be more dames than you’ll ever get.” Bucky jabbed good-naturedly._

_Gabe refilled their glasses while giving the brunet a kind smile. “I bet Stark could fix you up somethin.”_

_“There’s a pretty sizeable difference between making flying cars and invulnerable shields, and making something for a missing limb.”_

_The Commandoes kept up their reveling while Bucky decided to call it a night. He doubted he’d be able to get much sleep at all but he’d give it a valiant effort._

_It still felt unusual to have a room and not be sharing it with Steve. Bucky spent so many years sharing a bed with him to keep his friend warm or be right there in case he got sick or the asthma wouldn’t let him breathe, or any of the other endless list of problems Steve Rogers formerly had. They even shared tents when they were out on their missions._

_Lying there on the cot didn’t aid in making Bucky drift off. An irrational part of him was afraid to close his eyes and wake up to find this as some kind of purgatory loop before he’s really dead or even find himself still strapped down on the table while Zola does his experiments._

_Not to mention how sore his shoulder was whenever he moved around thanks to the stitches._

_Bucky involuntarily tensed when there was a knock on his door._

_He shut his eyes for a few seconds, gave himself a chance to calm down and breathe, before he swung his legs over the side of the cot to get up._

_Bucky wasn’t surprised to see Steve on the other side of the door. A part of him had expected—more like hoped—that his friend would stop by._

_But fuck did Steve look like a mess. Somehow he looked paler, his baby blues a little wild, and even his smile was a disaster. Bucky hadn’t seen him like this since Steve’s Ma died._

_Silently, Bucky moved out of the way so Steve could come inside. He opened his mouth as he shut the door, but didn’t get a chance to say anything when he was suddenly enveloped by Steve’s massive frame._

_It was weird as hell only being able to return the hug with one arm. That didn’t stop Steve (or maybe was the reason why) from holding on so tight, or Bucky from clinging right back. He melted into Steve because big or small these arms were where he was meant to be._

_“I—I almost lost you, Buck.” Steve whispered, and damn it, did he sound wrecked. It made Bucky hold on tighter and grip the back of Steve’s uniform like it was a lifeline._

_“Yeah, well,” Bucky cleared his throat, “you can’t get rid of me that easily, punk.”_

_Steve’s body jerked with what he could only hope was supposed to be a laugh._

_“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”_

_“You’d be fine.” Bucky flashed him a smile that betrayed his sadness when he pulled away. “You got Peggy. You don’t need me.”_

_Steve frowned. “Don’t say that. I do need you. You’re my best friend.”_

_“And you’re mine.” But he knew that the blond was far more capable of existing in this world without him. Steve was independent, and Bucky could admit to himself that he was far from it since the day he met the pugnacious blond from Brooklyn all those years ago._

_“I…”_

_It wasn’t the common thing for Steve to struggle for words with him. Bucky could count all the flopped dates with Steve awkwardly struggling to say the right thing. But there was never a problem when it was the two of them like this._

_“Steve?” Bucky grabbed his friend’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, looking over him worriedly. “Did something happen in the interrogation?”_

_Steve’s eyes were on him so intensely, it felt like he was staring directly into Bucky’s soul, and he was scared what his friend was trying to find. It rooted Bucky to his spot while his worry got jacked up another ten or twenty levels._

_Then there was a warm hand on his cheek, and Bucky was having a hard time reminding his body how to breathe._

_“I realized something.” Steve said softly. “When that bar started to break.”_

_Bucky swallowed hard to try, tongue darting out across his bottom lip. He didn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes followed it. He also didn’t miss the flare of hope that started in his chest._

_“Yeah?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Steve leaned in closer and the brunet officially wasn’t breathing anymore as soon as their lips ghosted against each other._

_“I’m in love with you, Buck.”_

* * *

The punching bag slammed into the wall, the impact sending a reverberating slam through the room. Sand spilled out from another hole in the center of the bag. 

Bucky’s chest heaved as he panted, heart racing and body covered in sweat. His bloody knuckles were already stitching broken skin back together. He’ll have to remember to tell Tony to make stronger bags.

Decades have passed and Bucky could still feel his lips tingle from the kiss Steve gave him.

It could be another seventy years from now he’d feel it then too.

 -o-

Sometimes Bucky wanted to kill Clint.

Sometimes there would even be a consensus with the other Avengers. Excluding Natasha, respectfully. Well, most of the time.

There were also times Bucky had wanted to wring Steve’s neck after he’d get involved in another fight, so he felt it was safe to say that made Clint his best friend these days.

The others would agree on that, too, since he’s rooming with the archer and tends to be the first one he makes plans with (when Tony and Natasha aren’t readily at hand).

Bucky did think Tony was missing out. Who’d want to miss watching Clint drink off his ass?

Yet somehow even drunk Clint’s ability to never miss was still going strong. As he showed off with the bouquet of red-winged darts sticking out of the mini target’s bulls eye. The archer looked smug as he swayed along the short path to his and Bucky’s table.

“You’re cheating.” Bucky said flatly, staring in disbelief. It was the same feeling every time, didn’t matter how many times it happened. “You _have_ to be cheating.”

“It’s okay to be jelly, Barnes.” Clint grinned. “You can still pay for the next round while you’re at it, though.”

The brunet huffed a laugh and shook his head. Strands of hair fell into his eyes that he had to brush back. Bucky’d let his hair grow out over the years. Never too long in fear he’d forget who he was, but also never the same cut from the war. At the current moment he had it long enough to meet his jawline. Still too short to get out of the way with a hair tie. Bucky didn’t have a problem with it.

“Natasha comin or what?” Bucky asked as he slid out of his seat.

Clint shook his head and cracked some peanuts from the basket on their table.

“Nah. Fury put her on some last minute assignment.”

“No rest for the wicked, I guess.”

“You’re telling me. I got cockblocked by a fucking Cyclops.” The blond grumbled.

“I’m gonna tell Fury you called him that.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe if Nat wouldn’t bite my head off for it.”

“You’re not really going to tell, right?”

Bucky flashed Clint his teeth as he walked away.

It was always the highlight of his night when he had Clint squirming.

He found a spot at the crowded bar to squeeze into and was able to use one of his old patented Bucky Barnes charming smiles to get the bartender’s attention faster.

Bars had been a constant in Bucky’s life. He dragged Steve to them before the war for dances and dates, celebrated with the Howling Commandoes after another successful HYDRA base raid, mourned with Howard and Peggy at the Stork Club when Steve was long gone and the war was at its end.

Now it’s to finish his days on a high note with the friends SHIELD gave him (and Tony).

A smile caught his eye as he grabbed the new drinks.

Down the bar was a brick house of a body in a tight white shirt. The smile was playful and pink-lipped. Hair was short and golden blond. And the jaw was a nice hard line that’d take to showing hickeys nicely. The guy could pull off being a close match.

Except his eyes were a deep green instead of a cornflower blue.

Bucky gave him a flash of a smile and turned away. Tonight wasn’t a good night to fake making love to Steve.

Clint snatched his beer from Bucky as soon as he was in arm’s reach of the table and tried for another round of darts. The brunet knew better than to make another bet. Technically he already knew better from all the times before that they went through this.

This time he was just saving himself from losing all his money—and preventing Natasha from having a reason to shock him with her Widow Bites.

So while Clint pouted into his glass and went on to playing darts on his own, Bucky pulled out his Starkphone.

**Message to: [IRON REBEL]**

**Need a rescue?**

It was surprising that Tony didn’t answer right away.

Even more of a surprise was the response when he did.

**Oh no, no need, Buckaroo! I’m good, SO good!**

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. The only time Tony sounded that excited was for one of two reasons.

**Message to: [IRON REBEL]**

**Is the investor smart or hot?**

_Now_ the response was fast.

**Oh no, not the investor. Gross. His son. Who is both. Really fucking hot Russian.**

Bucky couldn’t help a snort at that.

**Message to: [IRON REBEL]**

**Expecting details tomorrow, Stark.**

**Oh there’ll be plenty, soldier.**

“I swear you’re a terrible friend if you’re ratting me out.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone. He looked up in time to get hit in the center of his forehead by a fucking peanut and Clint Barton still looking like a pouting four year old.

“As great as seeing Nick’s reaction would be,” he started, “I refuse to be at fault for your stupidity.”

“Damn right you aren’t.” Clint huffed with a nod. “I can do it all by myself.”

“Don’t worry, I know you can.”

Seemingly satisfied with the answers, Clint flipped Bucky off and rewarded himself with another swallow of his beer.

“You should go chat up that slice of American Pie.”

The only reason Bucky didn’t choke on his own drink was the fact this wasn’t the first time Clint’s tried to push him into another hook up. Natasha was notorious for trying to set him up on dates, too. Bucky didn’t see what was so special about his personal life that they thought it needed intervening.

“Not feeling it tonight.”

“You never do.”

“It’s okay for me to be uninterested, Robin Hood.”

“Sure it is.” Clint nodded. “When you’re not a pining cyborg saving himself for a frozen war icon.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed but he kept his demeanor casual. _Do not punch Clint, do not punch Clint._ “I’m not pining.”

“Sure you’re not.”

“I’m not.” Bucky growled. “I know Steve’s not coming back, Barton. I ain’t got any hopes of him knocking on our door. So I take home a guy every now and then, you’ve heard me with em when you don’t take out your hearing aids. I’m allowed to have a night where I decide to keep my dick to myself.”

Clint shuddered.

“Yeah, I have heard. I also noticed who they all look like.”

“It’s called having a type.”

“The ‘Steve Rogers’ type.”

“Finish your drink and walk back to the apartment.”

Bucky rose from his seat, feeling a violent churn in his stomach. Clint grabbed his elbow before he could get far.

“Sorry, man. Backing off.” He promised.

The archer waited and watched Bucky cautiously decide to sit back down. “Just me lookin out for your old wrinkly ass.” He added.

As much as he wanted to, Bucky held in his comeback. “You know how you and Nat are with each other?” he asked, waiting for Clint to nod in answer before he continued. “That’s how it is for me when it comes to Steve. Only one fella I’ll ever be able to want for keeps.

“But I’m trying to move on. Been trying for years and every once in a while I hit the jackpot. Sometimes I gotta remind myself what I missed is all. With that said I don’t need you checking me every morning when I’m in the shower.”

Clint at lest had the decency to look abashed. “Considering past experiences—some I’ve heard about from Tony, by the way—one can never be too careful!” he protested.

“You and Natasha tag team on it too much.” Bucky muttered, human hand pushing through his hair. “I’m not…things have been a lot better. Have been for a while. Still got shit to handle, but if things change you’ll be the first to know.”

Steve would hate him for all those attempts if he knew. Steve would look at Bucky with big blue puppy eyes and try to make it all better in any way he can.

If Steve was around, though, none of it would have been an issue.

The blond scrutinized him. No doubt weighing the pros and cons of believing him.

“So you’re happy?” Clint asked.

“Yeah. I’m pretty happy, Clint.”

Clint didn’t respond right away. His gaze was heavy and had a calculating side that Bucky figured he picked up from Natasha.

Then, he just nodded and downed the rest of his glass’s contents, and shot another peanut that landed in Bucky’s beer this time.

“All right. Then whaddya say we get the fuck out of here and get some juicy ass burgers?”

“We had some last night.” Bucky didn’t actually have a problem with it though.

Frankly he was relieved to move on from this conversation.

“Can never have too many burgers, Sarge!” Clint protested.

“Fine.” Bucky chuckled. “But next time it’s hot dogs. Can’t be a resident in New York without having one at least three times a week.”

“Only if you buy ‘em.”

“I’m not letting you freeload, asshole.”

“But I’m in recovery!”

“If you can go on a mission then you can pay for meals.”

Watching Clint pout was the most amusing thing to Bucky these days. And seeing the guy fall on his ass. But being the good friend he was, Bucky helped him up and kept a steady hand around him.

Yeah, Bucky wanted to kill Clint sometimes. He was a jackass, a clumsy drunk, and took to hovering over him too much.

Clint was also a good shot, knew right from wrong, and was a damn good friend who'd do anything for those he cares about.

As they set foot on the still crowded sidewalk and the moon lit up the otherwise bleak city night sky, Bucky thought to himself (not for the first time) how Steve would have liked Clint Barton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's any questions or requests, you can contact me through my Tumblr.  
> http://wolfnprey.tumblr.com/


	3. The Exhibit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky takes a trip to DC and things are still (of course) absolutely emotional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry that Steve hasn't shown up and that this is such a slow build already. Part of it is me putting off finally bringing the Stucky pain to another level, and then the other part is cuz I like seeing Bucky's connections before things go to shit.
> 
> Also, just wanna say, I've never read any of the Captain HYDRA stuff, and this is definitely not touching the HYDRA shit that's happening in the comics right now. This is simply gonna be my version of the title and me not calling Steve the Winter Soldier.
> 
> Oh, and I'm also sorry that it took so long to post. I was at a cousin's wedding over the weekend and then I started my summer classes. Which means I'll be trying to figure out my writing and posting times from now on.

Bucky didn’t drive to DC.

Bucky absolutely didn’t get on his bike and drive down to DC.

Bucky Barnes definitely drove five hours down to Washington, DC.

Not because Nick wanted him on an assignment. Not because he decided to pay an aging Peggy Carter a visit (Bucky didn’t have it in him to go a lot in the first place, watching someone so beautifully intelligent and strong have their memories taken away like that with no way to stop it), and not because he decided to pay his old VA counselor and good friend Sam Wilson a visit.

No, it was because he decided that even after the talk with Clint—who had been working a killer hangover and muttering about the advantages of being eighty-percent deaf—he was feeling extra self-indulgent in his Steve Rogers part of the brain.

Since the first time the Smithsonian opened their Captain America exhibit, Bucky has gone to see it so frequently that he and all his friends lost count.

Tony used to come with him as a show of solidarity. Bucky never made him do it, and did appreciate the support. Then Sam told him to start limiting the trips because it wasn’t helping Bucky through the grieving process. So the Stark tried, he really did. And it worked for a month or two. Bucky thought he could handle it.

But then one of those bad times hit.

Tony hasn’t tried to stop him from coming since then.

Coming to the exhibit for Bucky was the only way he got to remember certain things (time was a bitch of its own. While he wasn’t losing it the way Peggy was, things did lose its sharpness gradually no matter how much he fought it). He could go incognito with a Dodgers baseball cap, a pair of sunglasses, and a baggy jacket and walk through it like everyone else without being stopped because he’s Bucky Barnes.

The exhibit was how he could get Steve’s smile right in his head. Or recall the exact notes and octaves that the punk’s laugh would hit, and how the sound would always make Bucky’s heart race.

Also, it was Bucky who got to take a look at all this stuff about Captain America and see _Steve_ , not just the National Hero in the suit. He saw the kid from Brooklyn who couldn’t refrain from a fight because he hated bullies. Not the figurehead that their country made him into, took his identity, all to make more money selling war bonds.

Bucky was the one who knew it wasn’t Peggy Carter he loved in the end (or ever).

Sometimes Bucky would watch the reels of the Howling Commandoes and feel his chest tighten seeing Steve so close to him. The Commandoes all looked to him after Captain America was gone. They stood by him until the very end, even when he’d been careless about his own life.

Dum Dum and Gabe and all of them had been there at the memorial, and supported Bucky when he put a headstone for Steve next to Sarah Rogers’. Even if there wasn’t a body, his pal deserved to be laid to rest by his ma. That’s how he would have wanted it.

He’d returned the favor for each Commando when they died, too.

Bucky knew it looked strange for someone to be standing there gazing at Captain America’s portrait for hours at a time.

He just didn’t give any shits about it. All he needed was to memorize all the details that slipped away this time and he’d be okay. Bucky Barnes had the right to stare at his friend as long as he wanted.

And as longingly as he wanted.

He wanted to take the moments like these, the ones put on display, and replace Steve’s Camera Smile with a real one. Shrink Steve down so that he was back to being able to fold into Bucky’s arms completely. Swap out the Cap suit for a too big button up that had to be tucked into also too big pants held up by suspenders. 

No one seemed to realize that was the Steve Rogers he missed the most. The one who wasn’t tarnished by war or crashed a plane. 

* * *

 

_Bucky considered this a good few days._

_Scrounging up shifts at the docks had been fruitful and left them with some extra cash. Rent was paid in full on time (one of the rare occasions), and it wasn’t the hottest day of the year so the apartment felt the coolest it’s been for summer._

_The part that made Bucky the happiest was that Steve’s health hasn’t taken a recent nosedive. He’s kept the extra inhaler on hand like usual for the “just in case”, but there was still an immense relief that he hasn’t had to get it out._

_Steve had been gone when Bucky came home from an early shift, which he assumed meant that the little guy was turning in his latest commission and getting a paycheck of his own, so Bucky peeled off the sweaty work clothes and climbed straight into bed for a much deserved reward of sleep._

_The sleep lasted him until noon. He took a short shower so there’d be enough water for Steve later, and then he threw on some slacks and one of his white tanks before checking their food supply._

_Steve still wasn’t back. But it was a good day, and Bucky was smart enough to admit he could over worry, so he convinced himself to let it go. Even if Steve had the tendency to be a magnet for conflict._

_Okay, well, it was more like Bucky compromised with himself._

_Instead of using the extra cash to celebrate the good day at a dance hall or bar, he’d go down to the market and pick up a few things for lunch and dinner. He could make some Irish stew the way Steve’s ma used to when they were kids. If Steve’s not back by then **that’s** when Bucky will go searching._

_All things considered, he should have seen the end result coming._

_It was Steve goddamn Rogers he was thinking about, after all._

_The trip to the market wasn’t a long one (which was part of how it’d been so easy to make that compromise) and getting the food didn’t take long either since he knew exactly what he needed. And there might have been a little harmless flirting involved when it came time to pay._

_He knew he had to have jinxed this as soon as he opened the door to find Steve standing in the middle of the living space, hunched over and halfway out of his jacket, covered in blood._

_Stupid, stubborn, altruistic, idiotic punk._

_Steve couldn’t even **try** to look apologetic for Bucky’s sake. The blond was already puffing out his chest—goddammit there was a wince, Bucky fucking saw it—and was preparing that damn “ **I had to, Buck** ” speech that he despised._

_“Don’t.” Bucky ordered in a clipped tone. He kicked the door shut behind him and stomped to the kitchen so he could put the grocery bags on the table. Then he proceeded to retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom._

_Bucky wasn’t surprised. He really wasn’t. Too many years of this already, it was how they even met in the first place. Steve was never going to stop taking on the bullies and low life’s._

_It was one of the reasons he loved the idiot._

_It was also another reason he was afraid of waking up one day with Steve no longer at his side or in the world period._

_“Buck,” Steve sighed, frowning as he watched the brunet._

_“Sit.” He ordered with a gesture to one of their shitty wooden stools._

_Steve huffed but obliged and climbed onto it. He winced as soon as Bucky touched the cut on his lip with a cotton ball of antiseptic._

_**Good** , Bucky wanted to say, **if you didn’t get your ass kicked then I wouldn’t be able to hurt you like this.**_

_“You gonna ask?” Steve piped up again after a few minutes of heavy, angry silence._

_“There’s not a point is there?”_

_“It was Joey Meyers.” The blond went on anyway, proving part of Bucky’s point. “They cornered him behind McNally’s. They were beating on him and calling him a fairy.”_

_The brunet stopped where his hand hovered over Steve’s busted up cheek. Breathe in, breath out, in and out._

_Above the cut Steve had a shiner forming, purpling the skin in stark contrast to his fair skin. Bucky wanted to brush his fingers against it, press a kiss there to make it better and keep his precious body in his arms to protect him from the assholes of the world._

_That was part of the problem, wasn’t it?_

_He should be wanting to kiss some pretty dames, actually feel something for one of them whenever he went out for a good time. All those double dates were supposed to be for Steve's benefit of finding a nice gal. But they'd also been for his sake, so he could make himself stare at someone other than Steve and try his damdest to not be in love with his best friend, his male best friend._

_It's been a long time since he's accepted that Steve Rogers was all his heart will ever want. It's been a long time since Bucky decided he could be perfectly okay with that._

_“You—“ Bucky cleared his throat and tried again. “I hope the other guy looks worse.”_

_“He does.” Steve nodded proudly._

_“Good. But you can’t keep doing this shit.”_

_“You know I can’t just sit back and do nothing, Bucky.”_

_“Someone’s gonna be too big for you to take on alone—“_

_“I can handle myself just **fine** —“_

_“—and they won’t stop—“_

_“I’ve got you to swoop in, and I **still** can do it myself—“_

_“ **Stevie** , just shut up, won’t ya?!”_

_The blond balked and fell into silence._

_Bucky hated raising his voice to Steve. But the guy pushed him so far sometimes. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth. He waited until he was calm enough to speak at a normal level._

_“I know you see yourself as the big guy who has to protect everyone—I get it, I do—but you can’t expect some cuts and bruises to be the worst of it. I know you’ve got some ribs hurtin, I saw it so don’t even try to deny it._

_“One day you’ll stand up to the wrong guy and won’t be able to get back up. One day I might not be there to step in and kick their asses for you even if you’ve got them on the ropes. And I can’t watch you do that, Stevie, I **can’t** —“_

_Bucky’s voice wasn’t breaking, it wasn’t, and his eyes weren’t getting we neither._

_And he definitely wasn’t avoiding Steve’s face, not a chance pal._

_“Oh, Bucky.”_

_For the fragile body his best friend was born with, Steve’s arms were wrapped around him with strength to match Bucky’s own._

_“What the fuck am I supposed to do without you and your ugly mug, huh?”_

_“You won’t. Till the end of the line, right? That line ain’t ending here.”_

_“Damn well better not be, you stupid little punk.” Bucky breathed with a shudder. They’ve already fought so hard against all the doctors growing up who said Stevie wouldn’t make it. He couldn’t lose him now._

_Bucky knew Steve wasn’t going to make any promises to stop getting into fights. So he pretended not to notice._

_Just like he pretended that he didn’t notice how easy it would be to tilt Steve’s head up a little bit and touch his lips with his own._

* * *

 

“Excuse me, sir?”

Bucky fell back into the present—his Steve-less present—with a momentary lapse in where he was.

Right, Steve’s—Captain America’s exhibit. The Smithsonian. Washington, DC.

“I’m afraid I need to ask you to—“ the security guard cut himself off when he got a look at Bucky’s face.

“Oh Sargeant Barnes! I’m so sorry. I didn’t—“

“It’s fine.” Bucky flashed him a smile. “I’m leaving anyways. Been here long enough.”

“If you’re sure—“

He didn’t wait around for him to finish. Natasha was going to be pissed when she finds out he even came.

Maybe not pissed, but she won’t be very approving of it either.

Walking out of the Smithsonian Bucky planned on getting on his bike and taking the five-hour ride back to Brooklyn before Natasha could chance figuring out where he was.

He didn’t plan on finding Sam Wilson sitting on his bike waiting for him.

Bucky stopped a feet short of him with a sigh.

“Clint called.” Sam said, a greeting, an explanation, and a question all in two words.

“Isn’t that some breach in our confidentiality or whatever?”

“Only if I divulged in what we’ve talked about.”

“I told him I’m good.”

Sam’s dark eyes were making their own assessment, full of nothing but concern. Bucky used to squirm but by now he was used to it.

“I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” Sam declared as he got up and moved away from the bike. “Why don’t we grab some lunch? Gotta have something before you his the road, and I have to say I’m insulted you were planning on leaving without stopping by to see this gorgeous face, Barnes.”

Bucky snorted.

“Sorry about the ego bruise, then.”

“It’s okay, you can make it up to me by paying for lunch.”

“You’re such a cheap asshole, Wilson.”

“That’s no way to talk to your date.”

Bucky ignored the grin on Sam’s face and started walking away.

“So where does my date want to eat then?”

-o-

Things with Sam started a little over two years ago. 

A particularly bad spell—and inadvertently the one that made Clint and Natasha decide he couldn’t be left alone for fourteen months—helped Bucky come to the acceptance that he maybe quite possibly needed had to get help.

Since the VA helped so many soldiers, he figured it’d be worth at least a try. What began as sitting in the closest chair to the door without speaking a word during group gradually shifted into a fake name and giving altered snip bits of what he’d been through back in the war.

Sam had been the one in charge of the group. He never confronted Bucky, or forced him to talk. Even with no one being fooled about who he was, Sam didn’t say anything and neither did anyone else.

And then there’d been a new case at SHIELD a few months later. It involved this guy, Captain HYDRA, and the name itself always made Bucky’s stomach twist with disgusted rage. He hated that it was a glaring show that Steve had died for nothing (apart from saving New York from getting blown up, of course) and that the HYDRA bastards were mocking the fallen Captain so blatantly.

Bucky was there since this guy first showed up in the 60s, and not once has he or anyone else been able to lay eyes on him. Unless you counted Nat, who had some nasty scars on her body to show for it and a lot of blurred memories that left her unable to give them any sort of description besides him being tall and built like a fucking brick house.

For Bucky it made him sick knowing that is Steve had been around he might have been able to stop this guy.

So anyways, it’d been another bad night, and Bucky knew he was going to do something, and his first thought turned out to be that he call the guy in charge of group therapy.

It could have made things worse. But Sam didn’t. Sam listened like he always did during the group sessions, and he had calmly and so gently talked him down that goddamn ledge.

They talked more after that. Sam would wait until after group, and Bucky would help with clean up, and then they’d go to the same diner and get the same food.

Bucky would talk about Steve, even the things—especially the things--that everyone guessed but got wrong, and things he never outright said in the beginning. Sam would talk about his guy Riley and the day he lost his partner, or one of the may stupid things he’d done that made Sam love him so much.

Then one day all the confidant talks turned into some days of jokes and gifts and before Bucky knew it he had another fiercely loyal friend. One who would offer advice or new pranks against Clint (part of the reason Tony ended up causing the mood ring hair) while at the same time ensuring that the ledge was never touched again. He did it more bluntly than Clint and with a gentler touch than Natasha.

Going back to Brooklyn made seeing Sam stagnant and scattered and far and few in between, but he’d come up when he could to visit Bucky. And Sam had been correct, he’d return the favor whenever he came to DC.

Bucky guessed(knew) Steve was on his mind badly enough today that it’d slipped his mind.

No, that’s not true.

He knew what Sam was going to say about this so he’d been making a point to avoid making a visit.

As they sat there in the usual booth with the usual waitress ringing up that same order, Bucky was waiting for it.

“Okay, trying not to take it personally here, but you look like you’re standing in front of the firing squad, man.” Sam arched a brow at Bucky and sat back to cross his arms.

Bucky winced, but regarded his friend carefully.

“Preparing for the worst.”

Sam softened.

“There’s always gonna be days like this, Barnes. Totally normal.”

Bucky blinked. Okay, maybe Sam could surprise him still.

“I can’t even begin to fathom having these days off and on for sixty-plus years. All this coping? Fucking different for everyone, and I’ve gotten to see a least a small part of how it goes for you.”

Bucky couldn’t help himself since he knew what was coming. “But?” he prompted.

“Not really a but. Maybe a small, white boy ‘but’.” Sam answered, giving Bucky a smirk.

Bucky narrowed his eyes and scoffed.

“My white ass has been given the seal of approval by Captain America _and_ Darcy’s Bootylicious approval, I’ll have you know.”

“Well if your boyfriend and Darcy says so.” Sam replied, completely serious. Except Bucky could see his mouth twitch.

“Dick.”

“My point is—shut it, Barnes—my point is that perhaps after taking so long to grieve, it’s time to start pushing it back. Make less visits like I suggested before, try out more than a one night stand, do something that isn’t because you know Steve would have done it.”

That was the shot he was waiting. Having three different people push Sam’s point didn’t bode well for him.

Bucky sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“I know.”

“Are you holding on so hard because you’re holding out for him to come back?” Sam pressed carefully.

“No.” he said gruffly. “I gave that up a while ago. I’m the one who asked Howard to stop, which didn’t go over well, but he listened.”

Steve was long gone and Bucky was on an endless loop to figure out how to fill a piece of the void.

“Then you need to be the one who stops everything else.” Sam went on. “One thing at a time, yeah, but you need to be able to put it in a box and move on. I know he was a huge part of your life. Do you really think he’d be okay with all this?”

“What if it means I forget him, Sam?” Bucky shifted in his seat, the thought always filled him with a cold sense of dread.

“You won’t.”

“I already forget his voice. Or how blue his eyes were. It’s like he’s a photo that won’t stop fading away with age.”

Sam had a look of such understanding it made Bucky’s breath hitch and eyes sting.

“Riley used to be shit at singing.” Sam smiled sadly. “Worst fucking voice I ever heard. Obsessively sang Promiscuous Girl and Sexy Back to mess with me.

“Now, I can still picture him doing it, but his shitty voice isn’t the same. It happens. Time goes on and pieces get murky like that. But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten him or what we had, or how annoyingly fond that singing made me feel. It makes me cherish all of it more.”

“So I should stop grasping at the straws?” Bucky asked weakly.  
  
“Grasping makes it worse.”

Right. Of course it did.

Lunch went by with a subdued air for a little while after that. Until Sam go ketchup splattered into his face when he shook the bottle and found out the cap was loose. Then Bucky made a joke about Sam liking it when he gets it in the face, and it was returned with a glower that should have made him shake in fear but left him in even more painful laughter. Things were light again, no more lectures or worries.

“You owe me a shirt, Barnes!”

“Me? I didn’t cum on your face, it was the bottle!”

“You unscrewed it!”

“How the hell could I have done that with you sitting there the whole time?”

“You were a Howling Commando, you know how to be sneaky!”

By the time they were full and the check was paid, the day felt easier. Bucky’s chest and shoulders didn’t feel so heavy. Sam was good at doing that.

Up until they got outside and Natasha came braking in front of them.

Wishful thinking, always his biggest enemy.

“Hey boys.” She greeted. The smirk she was wearing was off-set by the missing glint she usually had in her eyes. “I’m here to collect a fossil.”

“Please, you’re nearly as old as I am.”

“Wait, what?” Sam blinked, squinting at the redhead.

For a moment Natasha’s smile grew into one with more teeth. “Don’t you know never to talk about a girl’s age, James?”

“I tend to forget that rule after a certain number.” Bucky responded. “Clint’s not with you?”

“He’s retrieving your bike.”

“You’re trusting him with my girl? You know he’ll ding her up!”

“I’ll make him pay for it, James.” She said, her tone taking a more professional turn. “I need to take you in.”

Bucky was on alert in an instant, his body straightening.

“I’ll see you later, Sam.”

“Yeah, of course, go save the world from aliens and shit.”

“Is it Avengers or SHIELD?” Bucky asked when he got into the car. Nat smoothly merged into the adjacent lane and picked up speed.

“SHIELD.” She answered. “Fury is waiting with Tony. They want to be the ones to explain.”

“Tony?” Bucky furrowed his brows. “Why would he—“

“For once it’ not him inserting himself into the briefing or having to own up for destroying something. I’m not at liberty to say anything more.”

Well that wasn’t assuring. Or calming. Or explaining what the fuck he’s being taken into. Bucky could feel the storm brewing in his stomach as the nerves started coming out to play.

What the hell was going on?


End file.
